


Olicity After Dark

by lostolicityscenes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostolicityscenes/pseuds/lostolicityscenes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sexy Times, Erotic Drabble...</p>
<p>So I'm not that good at this type of stuff, but Imma gonna throw this type of scene onto this work...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm your girl.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write a romantic NYE themed kissing scene for Olicity, but this happened.

OLIVER  
You’re my girl, aren’t you?  
FELICITY  
Yes. I’m your girl.

She says this, legs twined around his torso, Oliver buried deep inside her. Her blonde hair, streaming around them, their skin slick with sweat, flushed red from arousal. He lifts her up and settles her back down and she closes her eyes and moans softly at the pleasure of it. He places soft kisses on her chest, her neck, and then a deep kiss on the mouth. Both of them breathe heavily, softly groaning. She leans back away from him, head thrown back, gasping, as she comes, her body spasming as wave after wave of pleasure cascades over them.


	2. The Blue Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smutty continuation of the It's not a sex club drabble from Random Olicity Scenes.

It took a moment to get acclimated to the dim light. She  
walked in and didn't expect to see naked bodies in water. The  
room was lit only by candles. 

It was a large space, hot and humid, the slightly dank smell  
of chlorine heated. Steam rose from the water in large pools  
lit in dim lights. He was talking, this man Boris, to Oliver.  
But she wasn't listening. 

She was hyper aware of the people in the room, who were  
taking no notice of her. So much sensory overload, it came at  
her in flashes. A puckered nipple, dipping beneath warm water  
until a tongue flicked it and captured it in a mouth. Lips  
sliding down the neck of a woman, as she hung her head back,  
eyes closed, biting her lip.  
Wet hands sliding down a back leaving a rivulet of water.  
Flushed skin, pants and murmured moans and sighs. One of the  
couples, were kissing, licking, and tasting each other. 

She could feel, herself, the warmth pooling at the center of  
her, the wetness, she pressed her thighs together, slightly  
crossing her legs. She tried not to show any emotion on her  
face, hoping that no one was noticing her reactions, but  
everywhere she looked she saw sex. 

Just beyond the pools, a man and woman, were entwined on a  
chaise, his mouth to her breast, her legs hitched up around  
his waist, calfs draping over his bottom, feet pointed. He  
slid over her, and she took him in, they were quiet almost  
intent on only each other, she watched them perform this  
intimacy like they were alone. She watched and couldn't look  
away, couldn't stop the blood throbbing between her own legs.

And then suddenly, she felt an arm snake around her waist  
from behind. It was Oliver, she didn't need to look. He  
pulled her back tightly against him, against his arousal. And  
she felt, the rough bristle of his cheek against her neck.

OLIVER (LOW) (CONT'D)  
Do you like that?

Both of them watching the couple now. And she couldn't help  
the shiver that ran through her, when he spoke.

FELICITY (WHISPERS)  
Yes.

Startled, that he asked her that. She suddenly returned to  
her body, aware that Boris was watching them with an  
unreadable expression. She turned her head, to look at  
Oliver, to gauge if this was part of the cover. One look at  
him, at his eyes and she knew it was, even if his body said  
it wasn't. 

He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss, sliding his tongue  
inside her mouth. God help her, she let him in, not knowing  
anymore what was ruse and what was real.

And suddenly, Boris excused himself. And they were on their  
own.

And Oliver's hand was sliding down her back, the other still  
on her stomach holding her fast to him. From behind, his hand  
was sliding between her thighs, and he stroked her once,  
twice, pulling against the fabric between her legs. And the  
touch, made her squeeze the muscles inside of her. Then  
nothing, and suddenly air, as he drew aside the panties, and  
then his fingers, rough and warm. She couldn't form a thought  
if she wanted.  
All she could do is press back against the hard length of  
him, grinding her ass involuntarily against him, which he  
liked, if the small noise he made was an indication. She was  
so wet. So, so wet, that his fingers slid easily inside her  
and all she could do was feel it, and all she was aware of  
was his mouth pressed against her neck and her head pressed  
back against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, but he wasn't  
having it.

OLIVER  
Don't close your eyes.

So she didn't. They watched the other couple as their rhythm  
heightened, watched the woman as her chest bloomed red,  
watched the drop of sweat slide down the man's bicep as he  
rose and fell above her. Heard their moans and pants as  
Oliver touched her. Until silently, she came, gripping his  
arms, bracing against him, she squeezed her eyes tight as the  
aftershocks glided over her.


	3. The Red Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is another smutty drabble - part of the It's Not A Sex Club chapter in my other work - Random Olicity Scenes.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr for the whole piece all together.

Felicity disappears into a nearby door, a bathroom.  He sits  
               on the edge of the bed and waits nervously.    
  
               After an eternity, or what seems like it, Felicity enters  
               wearing a robe, he can see she is still wearing the hose and  
               shoes she came in, he gulps.    
  
               Felicity stands before him.  She stands close and looks at  
               him.  She's acting very confident, but he can see the slight  
               betrayal of nervousness underneath.  She leans down and  
               loosens his tie, pulling it from his neck.  With her legs,  
               she opens his slightly and stands closer between him.  Slowly  
               she reaches for the ties of her robe and he's mesmerized.  He  
               watches her hands as they untie the belt around her waist and  
               the robe gaps open revealing creamy expanse of skin, black  
               lace.    
  
               She slowly raises her hands to the lapels and then in one  
               sweeping movement slides the robe off her shoulders and lets  
               it fall into a puddle onto the floor.  His mouth goes dry as  
               he looks at her.  She's wearing a lacy black bra and panties,  
               a black garter belt attached to her sheer black stocking and  
               the ridiculously high heeled stilettos on her feet.    
  
               She looks down at him, her chest rising and falling a little  
               rapidly, the only sign that she is nervous.    
  
               Her lips are parted slightly and the sight of them, makes the  
               blood pool to the center of him.  Slowly, tentatively, he  
               lifts his hand and slowly slides the palm up the smooth,  
               curve of her calf, up the back of her legs until he reaches  
               the garter.  In one deft movement, he releases the clasp.   
               Then does the same to the other side.    
  
               He slides his hands up towards the swell of her behind and  
               hears her slight intake of breath.  His hands slide around  
               the front of the silk fabric until his hands are encircling  
               her waist.  He tugs her forward slightly and then slides his  
               hands down the fronts of her thighs, unclasping the garters  
               in the front.    
  
               He slides his hands back towards her waist and pulls her  
               closer until his mouth is almost touching her belly.   
  
               Felicity places a hand on his shoulders drawing his attention  
               and mouths in a soft whisper.  
  
                                   FELICITY (CONT'D)  
                         Oliver, the p-plan?  
  
               Oliver takes a moment of consideration.  He glances up at her  
               and sees that she is aroused.  Her eyes are glazed and a red  
               flush has spread across her chest and neck.  
  
                                   OLIVER  
                         Fuck the plan.  
  
               He takes his hand, to the curve where the silk fabric touches  
               the juncture where her thighs meets her pelvis and slides the  
               fabric to the side, exposing her.   
  
                She feels the cold air against her clit which is immediately  
               replaced by Oliver's warm, moist breath and all the blood  
               rushes to the center of her, the wetness.   
  
                He leans forward slowly and she feels the scratch of his  
               stubble before the slightly rough, wet flick of his tongue.   
               She draws her breath sharply as his wet touch jolts her.    
  
               He pulls back a millisecond before leaning forward once more,  
               placing his mouth directly on her, he goes to work, licking,  
               kissing, sucking his hands sliding up over her backside,  
               clasping her tightly against him.    
  
               She wants to collapse to the floor in ecstasy, but he holds  
               her fast, so instead she places her hands on his shoulders,  
               bracing herself, pushing herself into his mouth, throwing her  
               head back and closing her eyes, unable to control the moans.


	4. Tantric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, no story just dreamy smutty smut. Takes place during Season 3.5.

Everything about Felicity and Oliver’s first time was special, from the circumstances to the outcome to the aftermath. And even with the clock ticking down to Oliver’s surrender to Ra’s al Ghul, when they finally came together, they didn’t rush it.

He took his time, spent every moment in reverential delight of her body. They kissed, and licked and touched and savored each and every moment not only because it was their first, but because they both knew it was probably their last.

So, it may be understandable that Felicity expected the next time, to go a little more urgently. It was the first night, after they drove from Starling City. They drove all day down the coast, watching the water sparkle, the scent of the sea air drifting in the wind that whipped her hair as she sat in the passenger seat of the convertible. Felicity felt a contentment and peace she had never felt before sitting in companionable silence next to Oliver.

Perhaps, some might find it strange that she didn’t ask where they were headed. But, she didn’t. He had asked her to join him on his adventure of self-discovery and she was content to go along without questions. She wanted to let it all unfold without being spoiled.

But, as the sun went down over the ocean, Felicity felt a rising anticipation. This would be the first night they spent together. The first real night alone. No dangers threatening them, no unacknowledged words of love, no cell phone rings to disturb them, no Starling City to save.

Tonight it was just them, Oliver and Felicity. What would they talk about? She thought fleetingly. It was hard to imagine a conversation that didn’t include criminals and tech speak. Or maybe they wouldn’t have words tonight. That thought sent a shiver down her spine, she didn’t know if it was terror or anticipation or likely a combination of the two.

They had denied themselves each other for so long. But not tonight. And with that, she felt a growing excitement, an impatience to reach their destination this evening.

They did stop eventually. By then, the moon had risen high in the sky. A small beach cottage right on the sand. Felicity checked the impulse to roll her eyes at how a ‘bankrupt’ Oliver could have afforded it. She knew anyways, she had hacked his accounts a long time ago.

He took a moment to start a fire in the fireplace, while she pulled sheets off of furniture. She had just set their bags on the floor when she felt his arm slide around her waist, twirl her around and pin her to him. He kissed her with the ferocity of a starving man. She was bombarded with sensations all at once as he simultaneously kissed her, his hands pulling off her clothes, tugging her hair back in fists, his tongue licking a spot on her neck before his mouth descended on a bare breast. How did she get naked so quickly? He lifted her quickly and sat her on the edge of the bed, pausing a mere moment before diving back down to kiss her senseless again.

When Felicity tries later to recall it, the night blurs together, only flashes of memory come back to her. His hands roaming across her back, her butt, his insistent fingers between her legs, the heat of his breath as he lifts her hips placing her legs over his shoulders. The weight of him on top of her, as he rocks inside her, her fingers clutching his arms which are tensed into bands of steel as he hovers above her.

The night had an urgency, a wildness to it. He had denied her for so long, denied himself, that now without restrictions, his necessity for her had reached a critical mass. And even though it felt like she was descending a thousand miles per hour, even though his presence was assaulting her every sense, possessing every inch of her, she had never felt more safe. She gave herself over to him, body and soul.

He had looked at her guiltily afterwards, but she laughed it off, kissed away his furrowed brow.

Felicity imagined their sex would be fast and slow, urgent and languid, varied and plentiful. It was at first, they explored each other, learned each other over the next months until they had settled down in the little house in the suburbs of Coast City.

Maybe, Felicity thought that domestication would tame their sex life. She could not have been more wrong. Sex did change. It lost its wildness and turned into a meditation. Their sex had never been pornographic tropes of pumping and wailing, it had been energetic and enthusiastic. But now, it was an exercise in excruciating slowness.

Their lovemaking would go hours.  He would lavish kisses on her, exploring her mouth, every inch of her skin, while she squirmed, clutching for him, trying to pull him to her as he continued his sweet torture.  

They would spend quiet afternoons in bed, his fingers skimming over the curves of her body, over the rise of her hips, the dent where her backside met the back of her thighs.  His light touch leaving a trail of raised goose flesh, making every nerve of her body fire tingles throughout her skin.  His touch would heat her from her core, a deep flush of red would bloom and radiate off of her, the only brief moment of relief when his hand would still and the air would cool her for a moment.  And even though she wasn’t cold, she would shiver in anticipation of the moment his warm fingers would touch her once more.

And when finally, they would join together, often sitting entwined facing one another, he would be so gentle.  Leisurely but relentless, he would slide inside her building a momentum that never was hurried.  It was deliberate and inevitable.  He would wind his fingers through her soft curls, his eyes watching her, as she would throw her head back, bite her lower lip, breathe.  He never quickened, just kept up the slow movements until the sheets were drenched with their sweat.  A small brush of her hardened nipples against the slightly roughened scarred skin, could tip her over into an intense orgasm.

But still he didn’t stop.  Even though they both came, intense little deaths, he wouldn’t stop.  The little aftershocks would build and build, their bodies sliding together as the sweat beaded on their skin, easing and exacerbating the friction of their movements.  A drop of sweat would roll down her chest, between the valley of her breasts and Oliver would lean down and give a quick lick, taste the saltiness on his tongue.

They were so intent on the sensations, that sometimes the room was quiet save for the sound of their breathing. 

And when the pressure had built, the momentum almost reaching a peak, they kept passing it to go higher.  Until finally, he would have mercy on them both and tip them over the edge.  It was never something big that would do it, a slight shift in position, a soft touch to her clit.  Whatever it was, she would convulse again and again as the waves crashed over her, her mouth open, head thrown back, unable even to moan, just silently shudder, the walls clenching and releasing sending him off his own cliff.

They would tip over to a lying position in bed, sleep and exhaustion overwhelming them.  Felicity’s last awareness before the black overtakes her is his solid warmth pressed against her, the weight of his arm carelessly slung across her holding her to him, the weight of one muscular leg between hers.

And when she awakes, the first thing she sees is his hand entwined with hers.


	5. Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This started off as a scene and turned into smut. Oops. So, there's a little bit of screenplay language here. Shower Sex.

The apartment is dimly lit, empty.  We are inside the apartment looking out at the balcony.  Suddenly, a green rope line drops down from above, and the Green Arrow slides down and lands lightly.  Quietly, he slides the glass doors open and enters.  He walks slowly, wearily.  Bone tired, bruised, in his Green Arrow suit.

He pauses to push his hood back, removing his mask at the same time.  In one movement, he’s unzipped his jacket and lets it drop to the floor where he stands.

Now we are in the bedroom, we hear the sound of a shower running, the light from the bathroom door illuminating the rest of the room.

Felicity enters the apartment, dropping keys in a small bowl on the console next to the door.  She’s looking down at some mail and as she glances up, she notices the green jacket lying on the floor.  She stops short and then crosses the room to pick it up.  Briefly, she holds it to her nose, smiling slightly.  She turns to the stairs, collecting discarded clothes as she climbs.

Oliver stands in the shower.  His hands braced against the tile, head bowed.  He lets the warm water spray the top of his head, the rivulets break apart and come together as they snake down his back, guided by the contours of his muscles.  His eyes are closed and he simply breathes in the hot steam, letting it open his lungs, relax his muscles.  He sighs heavily, trying to ignore the weariness of his limbs, the sting of the water against the bruises across his arms, chest and back.

Felicity stands in the doorway, watching him for a moment unguarded.  Then, she says:  “So, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask Curtis in or he would have found out about your nighttime activities.”

Oliver’s eyes open and he lifts his head tiredly and looks at Felicity with a small smile, “Hey.”

“Probably shouldn’t leave this lying around the apartment.”  She holds up the heavy green jacket.

“I thought you were working late tonight.”

Felicity smiles tiredly, “I was, it is late.  I probably could have stayed longer but then I thought…all I want to do is take a hot shower, and crawl into bed with a big glass of wine.  Looks like you beat me to it.”

Suddenly a change in the tone of the scene, sexual tension. 

Oliver opens the door of the shower slightly and nods to Felicity to join him.  Felicity unzips her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, never breaking eye contact with Oliver.  

His eyes flicker downward, takes in the sight of her.  A few moments later and she steps inside, brings her hands to his chest lightly as they kiss.  He lets the water stream across her back, to warm her as he continues to kiss her deeply.  She slides her hands down his chest and moves them to his arms but stops as he winces.

“Do I want to know how you got these?”  She says gingerly touching one of the raw and red bruises.

He shakes his head, pulling her arms up to encircle his neck.  As he kisses her passionately, his arms sliding down her arms, then her back, and finally to her bottom, pulling her against him.

“Turn.”  Oliver says softly.

He turns her, so she faces the shower wall and a moment later she feels the roughness of his soapy fingers, sliding with the water down her back.  Skin sliding smoothly against skin.  

And then one arm encircles her, cupping a breast, his breath hot on her shoulder, the bristling wetness of his beard scraping against her neck.  The fingers of the other hand slide between her legs, slippery from the suds, he starts to stroke her.  She breathes heavily pressing her forehead against the shower wall, feeling the coldness of the tile against her skin contrasting with the rest of her warm from the water and her arousal, the result of his insistent fingers sliding inside her.  She closes her eyes, lost in the moment, the dull thrumming of blood coursing through her.

He pulls away from her, turning her to face him, leaning down slightly he cups her butt in his hand, gingerly and quickly lifting her, pushing her against the hard, tiled wall.  She gasps as her back makes contact with the cold stone and he kisses her gently, as if to soothe away the shock.

And then he’s inside her, and they both moan in satisfaction.  He braces a hand on the wall beside her for leverage, while the other clasps her to him in a steel embrace.  She holds on for dear life, letting him do most of the work, trying to help with her movements.  When she comes, it is quick and intense, spreading through her in waves.  He follows soon after.  

Gently, he lowers her to the ground, soaping her, cleaning her, letting the water rinse away the suds.  

Languidly, she exits and wraps a towel around herself, quickly changing into her pajamas while he finishes up.  By the time he rejoins her, she is yawning, her eyelids heavy, she fights to keep awake.  He pulls her to him, wraps his arms around her, entwines her fingers with his.  They lay quietly, damp, softly breathing.  Finally fully relaxed and at peace.  

They sleep.


	7. Kitchen Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not a tease, I am also no smut expert. I did my best, not sure how smutty it really is, you can tell me, I suppose. A NSFW coda for See Me This Way Part 2.

Oliver pulls Felicity toward him, and kisses her thoroughly. He drags her ass forward on the kitchen counter so she is perched on the edge. Pressed up against his waist.

She desperately wishes that their clothes could disappear, so she can feel the smooth warmth of his skin on hers. He seems to be of the same mind because he is rapidly unbuttoning her blouse. And then he pulls her to him once again, drowning her in another kiss. His tongue sliding between her lips, she feels his calloused fingers inching beneath her skirt, pulling at the cotton fabric. He lifts her up as he slides her panties down and off her legs. For a brief moment, she feels cold air counteracting the dampness between her legs, as he pulls away, and she opens her eyes to see his head descending between her legs. A moment of wild panic.

And then the coolness is replaced with wet warmth as he proceeds to lick and kiss her into oblivion, his hand simultaneously widening her legs open, bracing her on the counter, and stroking her.

She pushes forward, more more more. She braces one hand on the counter, arching her back, seeking to give him even more access, the other hand on his head, feeling the bristly, soft hair. Looking down, the sight of his large hand splayed across her pelvis is wildly erotic. His kisses are intensifying, she watches him consumed by his task, before the feelings overwhelm her and she feels herself dipping backwards wanting to lay back.

She's brought back to time and place when she hears the metal bowls, remnants of the food prep from their now forgotten dinner scatter clattering to the ground. Oliver pauses and looks up at her with an amused grin. She smiles back. "Oops," she says. She sits up again, "Don't stop." He gives her a look, a sardonic look meant to say 'yes, ma'am.' But, she knows he likes it when she's bossy, especially in the bedroom. He lifts her leg up onto his shoulder and gives her one long slow lick the length of her that makes her squirm in pleasure and suddenly, discomfort.

"Oh, Oh God, Ow!" He abruptly stops, looking at her in concern. She gasps out, "Leg Cramp, oh my God!" Oliver starts laughing, straightening her leg. "Better?" he asks.  
"It's not funny. Yes." she says relieved. He stands up, looking down at her with adoration. She continues, "Kitchen counters are not that comfortable, it turns out...maybe we should move this to a bed." He shakes his head, leaning down to give her a kiss. "Uh uh, too far." He lifts her off the counter, pulling her to him. He kisses her softly, gently biting on her lips. She's lost in sensation, his kisses wiping everything from her mind, drugging her into senselessness. Wildly, she wonders when exactly he had removed her clothes. He walks them backwards towards a kitchen chair, carefully sitting down and then pulling her towards him, she sits too facing him.

For one brief moment, they pause, letting the satisfaction of him filling her completely sink in. But she needs to move, she must move. Slowly she begins to rock her hips, grinding against him. No sound but their soft moans, their breath and the excruciating pleasure building between them. One hand grips her to him splayed across her back, the other clasping one buttock, aiding her in her movements. They look into each others eyes, they always have. Wanting to see the other person, to be seen. It makes this intimacy all the more intimate in it's complete vulnerability. They kiss, they let their heads fall forward resting their lips on the others shoulder. Until the rhythm intensifies and builds to the point of no return. Felicity feels her orgasm, an earthquake that rockets through her nerve endings, pulling her backward. Knowing he won't let her fall, she clenches and tightens, moaning loudly and unabashedly. Out of control, as aftershock after aftershock rolls through her. From a distance, she hears him following her and she slowly rolls forward wrapping her arms around him, holding him to her. They hug, spent, slick with sweat.

Oliver looks down, she is resting her head on his chest, her face obscured by a curtain of hair. Gently, he brushes the strands away so he can look at her. He never tires of looking at her, especially in this moment where she is perfectly sated. Her chest is blush red from their exertions, hot to the touch. He slides his thumb across it.

"Mmmm" she murmurs, eyes still closed, and smiles faintly. He slides his hand to cup her face, bringing his head down towards her. She opens her eyes and for the first time in a long time, looks at him the way she used to. His heart skips, he loves her so much. It scares him how much he has come to need her and it is also the most thrilled he has ever felt. Slowly, he kisses her, trying to impart everything he can't say with words. She brings her hand up and clasps him to her, letting the kiss lengthen and deepen. They pull apart, sit quietly for a moment. Felicity is the first to speak, "Oliver?"

"Yeah." he whispers back.

"Is dinner totally ruined because, I'm still really starving." It takes him a minute and then he chuckles. She laughs too. "I think we can save it." The double meaning of those words not lost on either of them...


	8. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place after the Olicity break up but before the events of 4x18.

**Hands**

Felicity needs to concentrate. But she can't. 

She looks at the stack of papers on her desk and sighs. Another long night. She could take it home but she doesn't want to be there either. Briefly she thinks of her friends, the team, the lair. Are they okay, are they safe? 

She slumps in the chair. Maybe that's why she's been burning the candle at both ends, staying late in the office every night. Being home reminds her that she's not there with them, with him. She leans back and closes her eyes. God she misses him. The anger wells up again, the hurt. The keen disappointment and there it is the familiar pit in her stomach. She pushes the feelings aside. She's tired of thinking about it. It's all that's been occupying her mind for days. 

She needs to get back to work. She needs distraction. The office is dark and quiet, everyone's gone home a long time ago. Even the janitorial staff has came and went. Felicity looks out the window at the glittering lights of downtown Star City, a wave of tiredness engulfs her and she takes off her glasses, puts them on the desk and closes her eyes. 

Her mind wanders. Images floating by-- 

_Ivy Town. Sitting on the couch. Oliver's looming solid presence next to her. The smell of him, the fresh, musky scent of him. They sat next to each other watching some movie on the television. He turned to look at her giving her that soft smile that made her stomach flutter every damn time. And then he took her hand. They just sat there, in silence, watching a movie and she never felt happier and more at peace. Felicity has no idea what they watched or what was said or any detail of those few hours because every one of her senses were consumed by the feel of his hand in hers.  
_

_They had held hands before briefly, but never like this, for such an extended time. His hand was warm, almost hot to the touch. It was large, overwhelming her delicate smaller hands. She turned his hand so it rested in her lap, Palm up. And with her fingers lightly traced the skin. Sliding her fingers between his, tracing the large thumb, the skin abraded from calluses, bumps from years of nocking arrows, plucking bow strings.  
_

_Briefly their eyes meet, and she was shaken to see that he was aroused by her exploration of his hand._

Felicity opens her eyes sighing deeply. This is a bad idea. She shouldn't be thinking about him, not like this, not when she's still mad. But it's too late, she's already aroused, already feeling the tingling at the center, the blood rushing, the damp. She presses her legs together, closing her eyes again. 

_His breath has quickened, the color rising on the back of his neck, meeting the raised baby fine hair at his nape._

Felicity raises a leg bracing it on the top of a trash can, she widens her legs, causing her dress hem to rise exposing her thighs. 

_With the tip of her finger she lightly traced the lines on his palms. One time she had gone with friends to a fortune teller, and now she tried to remember what the lady had said about the lines._

The heat of her skin rising, Felicity places a hand on her neck, enjoying the feeling of the coolness. She slides her hands down to her chest, to the edge of her skirt. She slides up the fabric resting her fingers at the juncture of her thighs. 

_She traced the life line - his lines were dark but broken, in so many places. Hinting at a life of strife, detours and setbacks. Slowly she raises his hand, and lowering her head she places a soft kiss right in the center of his palm._

Before she can change her mind, she slides her hand beneath the fabric feeling her way, a shot of pleasure jolting her. 

_He's watching her.  
_

_Watching her as she kisses his hand, a mix of curiosity and arousal. She traces his thumb sliding her fingers up and down the length of it, curling her hand around the thumb sliding her hands slowly up and down, both of them highly aware of the sexual innuendo of it. She glances at him, his brow is furrowed in concentration, the short quick breaths , his eyes glazing, his mouth slightly open. There is nothing more arousing than his naked desire._

Felicity arches back in the chair,her breath deepening, slow and steady. Her fingers moving insistently, stroking expertly, her fingers sticky and wet. Softly moaning, she thinks of his hands. 

_He cannot take it anymore and pulls her to him, covering her mouth with his, one hand pulling her on to his lap, the other winding through her hair, tipping her head back so he can more fully access her mouth.  
_

_That night, in the dark, illuminated only by the flickering light of that forgotten movie. He had stripped her of her clothes using his hands and his mouth to touch her everywhere, drop kisses everywhere. Sliding his rough tongue between her lips in time to the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of her._

Felicity gasps, shuddering silently as she comes. Panting, she exhales, riding each gentle wave of pleasure. Slowly she opens her eyes, returning to time and place and back to awareness. She rearranges her clothes back to a semblance of propriety. 

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, alone. 

_So different from that night in Ivy Town. They had ended up on the floor, tangled together in a throw blanket, her hair spread across his chest, his mouth pressed against her forehead. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, warm and safe wrapped in his arms._

Felicity sighs heavily. Picking up her glasses, she puts them back on. She picks up a piece of paper and starts to read.


	9. We can't keep doing this (the first time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another deleted scene of sorts for the “twist” at the end of my Arrow Spec Script for 05x02. (Please read first if you don't want to be spoiled!) 
> 
> I wanted to fill in the smutty gaps, so this is going to be the first in a series - not sure yet how many I’ll do but at least 3 right now. Also writing these in the traditional fiction format (not like a screenplay).

She was kicking herself all the way back to the Arrow Lair.  How could she have forgotten to run the search query?  And of course, she didn’t remember until she was almost home.

And now here she was at a quarter to 3 in the morning, madly driving across the empty streets of a sleeping Star City, kicking herself, because she had to be up and at work in just a few hours.  No sleep tonight…again.

She slowed at a stop light; the sky was already turning that dusky grey color, lightening for the coming day.  Quickly, she glanced into the rearview mirror.  Big mistake.  Her hair was falling from her ponytail in crazy wisps around her face, the dark bruises of too many sleepless night sat under each eye.

I look old and tired, she thought dully.  She loved helping people.  But, some days she wondered what had become of her life.  If all this went away, who was she, if she’d never met Oliver Queen?

Oliver.  Oh SHIT.  She groaned inwardly.  How could she have forgotten?  Oliver is staying at the lair.  Oliver will be asleep right now in the lair.  She contemplates turning the car around and just going home.  Weighing the pros and cons, screw it, she thinks.  I’m almost there anyway.  Maybe she can just sneak in and out without disturbing him.

She pulls up to the nondescript building, using her key to enter.  She punches the code for the elevator and then stands inside, listening to the quiet hum it makes as it descends downward.

Things with Oliver have been good.  It’s been a little over a month, since John and Thea left.  But, they’re managing to make it work, as partners and as friends.  She thought it would be difficult seeing him every day, but they’ve fallen into an easy routine.  I guess it makes sense, she thinks, they were friends before they were lovers.  Felicity grimaces, still hate that word though, she thinks.

The elevator stops and the doors open with a ding.  She looks up startled to find Oliver, himself, standing in front of the doors, arms crossed.  He’s still in his dress slacks; his collared shirt is completely unbuttoned.  She can’t help but notice his skin, the hard lines of his body.  She feels a flush of warmth, bloom across the back of her neck and ears, her mouth is dry, quickly she looks down.  She hopes he doesn’t notice her looking.  As she stares at the floor, he’s barefoot, she thinks.  Of course he’s barefoot, why wouldn’t he be?  She probably woke him up and he threw on those clothes to see who the hell was here at 3 in the morning.  But then that thought was followed by the next…Oliver sleeps naked.  Nope, she thinks, stop it, do not follow that thought trail.

“Felicity!”

She jumps, broken from her reverie, realizing that Oliver has called her name a couple times already.

“What?”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief.  “What are you doing here at this hour?”

She brushes past him, heads to the computers and sits down.  “I forgot to set up the facial recognition search for that robbery suspect before I left.  And I’m slammed at work today, so I figured I’d just come back and do it now.”

She can sense his presence; smell his scent as he moves to stand behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair, his default position when she’s working.  Silently, he watches the monitor as she begins.

She starts typing, her fingers, clacking quickly over the keys.  She turns her head, “I forgot you’re still sleeping here.  I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.  I was awake.”

She finishes typing with a flourish, turning to him in concern, “Why?  Is something wrong?”

Nothing’s wrong, he thinks.  It’s just his new habit.  After the nightly activities are over, and he’s showered and changed out of his Arrow suit, Felicity has left to go home, the Arrow Lair is quiet and dark.  He sits in her chair, sipping a finger of whiskey from the bottle that Diggle left behind and he…thinks.

It’s hard for him to admit that he’s no longer used to sleeping alone; that her warm soft presence in bed next to him is required now.  That even in his sleep he finds himself turning to her side of the bed, seeking to pull her towards him, curl his body around hers, comforted by her soft sleepy sigh, the even sound of her breath.

As soon as she entered the building, the motion sensor alerted him.  He watched on the security camera as she stood in the elevator, alarmed by her presence at such an hour.  But also, feeling something else, excited?  To see her off hours, even though things were clicking in the same way they used to, it was all business between them.  He missed seeing her like this, rumpled, sleepy, hair coming undone.  He realizes he’s not answered her, and she’s looking at him with that crinkle between her brows, the concern in her eyes.

“I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

She relaxes a little, “Oh.”  She stands up, casts about the room, suddenly feeling awkward and speechless.  They’ve never had a problem speaking, but lately, it’s felt like a gulf has opened up between them.  When they’re not talking about the mission, or pleasantries, it’s like they have nothing to say.  At least nothing either of them is ready to say.  Felicity smooths her skirt nervously, clearing her throat a little, “Well, I should head home, maybe if I get all green lights, I can get in an hour,” she jokes.

Oliver gets this sinking feeling; he desperately searches for a way to keep her a little longer from leaving.  The room feels emptier than normal when she leaves it.

“Why don’t you just sleep here, at least you wouldn’t have to drive.  And you still keep a change of clothes for emergencies, right?”

He half turns, waving toward the bed; she glances at it, unsure.  The sheets are flung back, rumpled and messy.  Sleep in his bed?  With or without him?  Which answer does she want to hear?

The thought of sharing the bed with him, fills her with arousal, she can feel her temperature increasing, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, as the unbidden thought steals into her brain, all the things he’s done to her in a bed.  Involuntarily, she shivers.

He realizes the minute the words come out of his mouth that it sounds like a come on.  But, he’s not going to take it back.  Obviously, he didn’t mean sleep with him in the bed, although…a split second slide show of Felicity in many sexual situations plays in his mind.  Fuck, stop it before your body betrays you, he berates himself. It’s taking all his self-control to prevent a very obvious manifestation of sexual arousal.

“I’m not sleepy, so you’re welcome to use the bed.  I’ve got some reports from work to read anyways.”

Felicity is unsure.  On the one hand, she could probably get another hour in if she avoided the travel time back and forth to her apartment.  On the other hand, sleeping in Oliver’s bed that held his scent, with him in the room might be too much for her already raw nerves.

It’s hard enough when he prances around shirtless.

“I’m not sure I can even fall asleep at this point,” she jokes.

Oliver reaches for the whiskey bottle, pours out a small amount into a glass and offers it to her.  “This helps.”  She eyes the amber liquid; it can’t hurt, and also, might just calm her jangly nerves.  She reaches for the glass, briefly their fingers touch, the warmth of his skin, jolting through her.  They make brief eye contact, his blue eyes seriously regarding her, unfathomable.  And there it is again, the warmth creeping up her neck again, that feeling of wanting to jump out of her skin, but also hyper aware of her body, reacting to him.

She brings the glass to her lips, drinking the whiskey in one go, the liquid sliding down her throat, leaving a trail of warmth down her throat.  He looks briefly surprised, then raises the bottle with a smirk, “Another?”

She answers his smile with her own, nodding.

She’s decidedly more relaxed, he thinks.  It might be that second glass she’s just about to finish off.  She’s not drunk, far from it, but the whiskey has definitely taken the edge off.

He notes her glass is empty again, and she eyes the bottle.  “Probably not,” he answers.  “You don’t want a killer hangover tomorrow.”

She stands, stretching and he watches her movements, the desire hitting him like a wave.  He busies himself with putting the bottle back in the desk drawer.  When he straightens and turns, she approaches him.  He’s keenly aware how close she is, her head is tipped back and he looks down at her upturned face, her eyes, wide and soft, her lips still glistening with the last of the whiskey.  Oliver looks down at her lovingly, at the smile playing at the corner of her lips and all he wants to do is pull her to him, kiss her senseless.

“Are you sure about taking the bed?” She says softly. 

“Yeah, it’s yours, you bought it after all.”

Felicity rolls her eyes, “I bought it for you!”  She swats at his chest playfully, and the feel of her hand on his chest, reverberates through him.  Involuntarily, he looks down, searching for the scorch mark from her touch.

Felicity has frozen as well, she didn’t mean to touch him, it’s just he’s so tall, and she’s drowning in his smile, and he’s so close, and he smells so good.  And he looks so sexy, standing there with his shirt unbuttoned, hands in his pockets, looking down at her with that look in his eye.

They both look down at her hand, which is still touching his chest.  He holds his breath, wanting her, but not wanting to upset whatever delicate balance is at play right now.  He waits for something to give.

Maybe the whiskey is making her bold, no she rejects that, it's not the whiskey, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.  The force of wanting him is too much.  In the flesh, right now, with full awareness, she needs to touch him.

Slowly, she brings her other hand up, resting it lightly next to the one already on his chest.  She can feel his pectoral muscle contract as soon as her hand touches him.  He’s so warm and his rapid breathing is making his chest rise and fall before her hand.  She steps forward, sliding her hands down his chest feeling every scar, the ridges of his abdominal muscles and around his side to his back, wrapping her arms around him.  She’s hugging him now, flush against him, looking up into his face, and her mouth inches from his.

Oliver holds himself as still as possible, not wanting to break whatever magic spell has been cast.  She feels so good, pressed against him, her heady scent wafting up to him.  Her eyes, inscrutable, soft and unfocused, her mouth parted, her cheeks flushed from arousal.  He wants to kiss her, she’s so close.  But, he doesn’t.  It has to be her choice.

Felicity raises herself up on tiptoes and presses her lips softly to Oliver’s lips.  It’s a chaste kiss.  She pulls away for a second, and then kisses him again, catching his top lip between hers tentatively.

She looks at him uncertainly, he’s so mute, and she wonders what he’s thinking.  His eyes are focused on her lips.  She licks her lips and he winces.  And the movement makes her bold.  She wants him right now.

She raises herself up again on her tiptoes and slowly and deliberately she lightly drags her tongue up his lips.  His mouth opens slightly and she takes the opportunity to touch her tongue between the gap.

Oliver is electrified by the touch and whatever self-control he had been exercising is broken.  He leans down; wrapping his arms around her he pulls her against him, kissing her fiercely.  Her hands wander up to his neck and she leans into him, tipping backward in his arm as he kisses her.

His hands roam up her back winding through her hair; pulling the strands gently free from her ponytail, then back down again, to cup her soft bottom, squeezing the flesh softly.  Her hands slide downward, fumbling with his belt, slipping her fingers down behind the waistband.  When they finally break apart, they are both breathing hard.

She’s flushed her hair in disarray feeling the hardness of his arousal pressing against her.  She reaches for his shirt, pushing it backwards over his shoulders, then down and off.  Her eyes greedily take in every revealed bit of flesh.  She leans forward placing her lips on his Bratva tattoo, then another on one of his many scars, and then Felicity straightens.

Oliver has seen that look before.  That bossy look, that take charge look that he loves but, especially, especially when they’re in the bedroom.  A small smile forms on the corners of his mouth.  Felicity pushes him backwards, forcing him to sit down in her chair. 

He looks up at her, this goddess looming over him.  He grips her hips with his hands as she leans forward, her hair falling about his face as she gives him a deep kiss.  Oliver hands disappear underneath her skirt reaching for the cotton fabric of her underwear.  He pulls her panties down and she steps out of them.

Momentarily he rests his lip at the juncture of her thighs.  The fabric of her dress is the only barrier.  He looks up at her.  She’s so aroused, her lips swollen from their kisses, her chest moving rapidly from her pants.  She pushes him backwards again and he relaxes against the back of the chair.

Not breaking eye contact, Felicity lifts the bottom hem of her skirt upwards while Oliver frees himself from his pants and then standing over him, she sits slowly, guiding his shaft inside of her.  They both groan in pleasure as Oliver locks into place.

Felicity runs her tongue along the inside of his lower lip, gently tugging at his lip with her teeth.  He pulls her into a kiss, his hands roaming through her hair, tugging her shirt open; he pulls it apart exposing her chest.  He drags one bra cup down freeing one of her breasts, licking her hardened nipple; he puts his mouth to the erect nub and sucks.

Felicity leans back and starts to grind her hips slowly.  The rhythm of their bodies builds a pleasurable strum inside her.  They move together, slowly at first and then carried by the waves of pleasure faster.  Oliver presses his mouth to Felicity’s neck, kissing her in that spot, he knows drives her crazy.  He smiles a little at the small moan that escapes vindication that he still knows how to pleasure her. 

Felicity responds by bracing her hands on the table behind the chair.  Either arm flanking Oliver’s shoulders.  The position pitches her forward at an angle and tilts her so that he’s entering her in a new way, rubbing that spot of nerve endings inside her.  She is hit with a fresh surge of sensation, flooding her with wetness, her moans pitch lower and deeper.  Oliver grips her bottom with one hand, helping her movements, the other splayed across her back pulling her towards him as he kisses her neck, her chest, and her breasts.

Felicity is lost in the movement, every nerve ending on fire, her skin beading with sweat, her skin warm and flushed, the sensations overwhelming her.  Oliver captures her mouth with his, sliding his tongue across the inside of her lip as he moves a hand between them, down to the juncture of her thighs.  Just a few light strokes, and he tips her over the edge.  Wave after wave of her orgasm rockets along her nerve endings, and possessed by forces beyond her control, her body contracts and spasms pulling Oliver into his own free fall.

Exhausted, Felicity rests her head against his shoulder.  Oliver kisses her lightly on the forehead, his eyes closed.

Felicity wakes up, for a moment disoriented.  Where is she?  And then the world comes rushing back to her.  FUCK.  What have they done?  Felicity’s mind starts racing, reality setting in.  She turns to find him sleeping peacefully next to her, one arm slung around her waist.

Felicity pulls away, he reluctantly lets her.  She hastily gets up, her clothes are neatly folded on a chair next to the bed, and she quickly starts dressing.  She pulls on her skirt and turning finds Oliver, awake, eyeing her curiously.

Oliver has a bad feeling, but tries to diffuse the tension with a carefree tone, “Morning.”

“What time is it?”  Felicity says nervously.

“It’s 6:30, still early.”  Oliver sits up watching her as she struggles with the buttons on her blouse.

“I should get to work.”  He can’t help but notice that she’s not meeting his eyes.

“Now?” he challenges incredulously.  “You have time, I could make pancakes.”

She looks up for a moment, alarm in her eyes, “No!  I can’t.”  She says unable to help the slight tinge of panic in her voice.  She turns and heads out of the room, Oliver jumps out of the bed to follow her, pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms.

Felicity finds a shoe, holding it in her hand; she hunts around for the other one.  Oliver grabs his zip up hoodie and shrugs it on.  He folds his arm, quietly watching as she hunts around the lair for her other shoe.

“I’ve got so much to do, back to back meetings all day long.  And I probably look like a crazy person and they’re going to think I’m a complete basket case, not to mention that the bags under my eyes have bags!”

With each word, his disappointment rises.  She’s regretting it.

“Then you better go.”  He says quietly.  That stops her.  He is stoic, but she can’t mask the regret in her eyes.  She knows she’s hurting him, he’d never show it, but she knows him well enough.

“Thanks…for letting me crash here last night,” Even to her ears, it sounds lame.

“Yeah,” He briefly weighs trying to broach the subject of last night, but he knows her well enough to know that she’s in avoidance mode.  I’ll give her a minute to process, he thinks. 

“I’ll see you later?”  She tries for breezy, but comes off stilted.  Thankfully, he lets it go simply nodding in reply.  She leaves quickly, before he can say anything else.

After the elevator doors shut, he slowly lowers himself into her chair, lost in thought.  It’s a calculated risk on his part, letting her go without talking about their relationship status.  But she and I are going to talk about this, he promises himself, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, just…not yet.

As Felicity exits the building, I’m fleeing the crime scene, she thinks.  That’s what I’m doing, running scared.  She knows they need to talk about what just happened.  She just has no idea what to say.  Was it a one-night thing, goodbye sex, did she want to get back together?  Nothing’s changed, she thinks.  Our problems are still there. 

Later, she thinks, I’ll figure it out later.  Felicity gets in her car and heads to the office.


	10. We can't keep doing this (oops we did it again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the fill in the smutty blanks. Takes place after the events of Season 4 but before the events of my Arrow Spec Script for 05x01-02 (see my other works).
> 
> Excuse my mistakes, apologies to Britney, and thanks for reading!

Felicity enters the lair and stops short.  It’s empty, well almost.  Oliver is there, quietly practicing with his sword, shirtless.  (Always).  He turns his head, but doesn’t stop moving, “Hi.”

“Where’s Curtis?  I specifically told Curtis that he needed to be here tonight for training.”  She walks over to her station and puts her things down. Oliver stops mid sword thrust and turns to her, “I know I gave him the night off.”

Felicity uncomfortably clears her throat.  What gave him the right?  She had orchestrated very carefully the schedule so that when they weren’t patrolling, Oliver was busy training.  Not as a way to avoid being alone with him, she thinks, trying to fool herself.  She busies herself with work.

Oliver places the sword carefully back on the rack, “We’ve been working him pretty hard, and I figured he needed a night off with his husband….”

“And…”  Felicity jumps at the low sound, now by her ear.  She hadn’t heard him cross the room, sneak up behind her.  She turns to find him looming over her, his face inches away, “You can’t keep avoiding being alone with me.”

“I’m not doing that!”  Did that sound defensive?  She hoped it didn’t.

He stands and smirks at her insufferably, arms crossed.  “You’re not? Because I noticed we haven’t been alone in a room together, for weeks, Felicity.”

Felicity crosses the room to her chair, seeking the comfort of her space and needing her distance from his sweaty maleness.  “We’re barely keeping up with the patrols and I can’t help it if Curtis needs to be here from time to time.”

Oliver eyes her curiously.  Carefully, he thinks, he needs to handle this carefully, she’s so skittish, she looks like she’s going to bolt.

“It’s not to avoid talking about the other night?”  He says quietly.

She stills, not looking him in the eye.  The night when they had ex sex and then she ran away like a coward, that night?  The night that has haunted her, making her toss and turn, because she can’t stop thinking about it every night since?  Yes, she’s definitely avoiding the subject.

“The other night?”  She says innocently, Miss Avoidy-mcvoidy pants.  He raises his eyebrows at her, inclining his head towards the chair she’s sitting in.

“Yeah, the other night, when we had sex, in _that_ chair.”  Felicity can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks.  Damn him.  And damn the mental images from that night.

But now there’s nowhere to run.  She raises her eyes toward him, “It was a mistake.”  She says in a low voice.

Ouch.  He was expecting her to say that given her hasty exit that morning, but it still hurt to hear it out loud.  He braces himself for the rest.

“It should never have happened.  And it won’t happen again.  Good talk.” She says it fast, choking it out past the lump forming in her throat, unable to control the wetness of her eyes.

“No.”  He replies.

“No?”  What does he mean no?  He can’t just say no, Felicity’s irritation rises.

“No.”  He repeats. Felicity sputters.  He walks toward her slowly.  “You say it was a mistake?  I say no, it wasn’t, not to me.  You say it should never have happened, I disagree.  I’m glad it happened.”  He’s backed her literally into a corner, trapping her between the desk and his body.  He leans in, “You say it won’t happen again…”  His voice lowers to a soft whisper, “I hope it does.”

Felicity’s mouth goes dry, probably because all the moisture is moving downwards, she thinks.  Why does her mind do this?  She can’t think when he stands so close, when he whispers at her and all she wants him to do is throw her down on the ground and…Felicity stops herself, takes a deep fortifying breath.

She takes in his face, that she has memorized the lines of so lovingly, his eyes blue and clear and filled with desire for her.  She loves him, so much that it takes her breath away at times, makes her feel completely exposed by it.  Even after everything, every lie that’s crushed her, she can’t help it. He’s still my world, she thinks, suddenly sad.

He watches the emotions play out over her face, desire, love, and then sadness. He kind of hoped sheer brazen force of will, could overcome all her doubts and fears, but the sadness, with a sinking feeling, he knows it’s not worked.

“I don’t want to mislead you.”  She says it plainly.  “And I should never have, it’s not an excuse, it’s just hard to resist you sometimes.” All the time, she thinks.  “But I shouldn’t have kissed you.  And I’m sorry, I ran out that morning.  I didn’t want you to think—“

“That we were getting back together.”  He finishes her thought.  She nods. “Nothing’s changed.  We still have the same problems, Oliver.”

“We can work them out.  You said once none of us are perfect but we can change.”  He tries, hopefully, they’ve had this conversation, but he still hopes.

“We tried, but we just…couldn’t make it work.”  She tries and fails to keep the quaver out of her voice.

“I love you.”  Anguished, hoping the words will pierce this wall between them.

“I love you too.  But it’s not enough.”  She counters sadly.  This conversation, they’ve had in multiple variations, always seem to end here.  He tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling. This never goes anywhere, this circular argument they are locked in.  Maybe it’s time to accept it; he needs to find another way.

He’s not ready to give up on them yet.

Oliver sighs deeply, “Okay.”  His sudden agreement startles Felicity, okay, so that’s it.  They’re really over.  A wave of regret washes over her.  She’s been saying it for months, it’s over, but his acceptance finally, feels wrong. Isn’t this what she wanted?

He looks at her, smiles, “I won’t be misled.”

For a moment, she’s confused.  What is he talking about?  A small smile plays around the corner of his mouth, “Next time.  I promise I will not think that it means anything more.”

“That’s not what I meant.  There isn’t going to be a next time.”  What is he up to?

“Okay.”  He replies, agreeably, “If you say so.”

“Oliver, I’m serious.  We’re not having sex again.”  Felicity repeats annoyed.

“I believe you.”  He replies. Now she is irked, knowing the more she insists the less credible she sounds.  

They have a stare-off, and then Oliver glances at his phone.  “I have to change for the hospital benefit.  I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.”  Felicity stands shell shocked, wondering at what point the conversation went off the rails.

Oliver shrugs on his hoodie, walking towards his room in the lair, that went well, he thinks, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face.

* * *

His words are ringing in her ears the entire time she’s getting ready and by the time she arrives at the hospital benefit, her emotions are already running high. So, when she arrives, and the crowds seem to part and there he stands dressed in that tuxedo, like a sexy fucking gift, she can’t help but feel a flash of irritation.

Oliver noticed her the minute she walked into the room.  She looks absolutely stunning, wearing a beautiful gold lace overlaid gown that draped all the way to the floor.  It reminded him of the first time he saw her dressed up. She still is breathtaking.  She turns and he’s jolted with desire when he realizes that the back of the gown has a large cutout that drapes low across her back, revealing a creamy expanse of skin.  He aches to touch her, to kiss her.  He gives himself a moment to recompose himself.

He has the nerve to smile at her, she fumes.  And saunter toward her, with his damn suspenders, like a jerk.  A sexy jerk, with whom she is not going to have sex with again.  Ever. Even though god help her, he looks really good.

“You look nice.”  He says, turning to say it softly in her ear.  His voice sending shivers down her spine.  She can feel the rough bristles of his beard; lightly scrape her face as he inclines his head closer to be heard above the din of the crowds.

“Thank you” she says stiffly.  He turns and stands next to her, surveying the crowd for a moment, Star City’s elite. A couple maneuver past them and reflexively, Oliver places his hand on Felicity’s lower back as they move out of the couple’s way.

She jumps, as his hand makes contact with her skin.  The warmth of his skin radiates outward, warming her to her core. The couple moves past but he doesn’t move his hand away.

An elderly woman approaches, “Mayor Queen.  Congratulations.”

“Mrs. Ferguson, it’s good to see you again.  You’re the one to be congratulated.  This is quite an event.”  Oliver replies warmly.  As he and the woman exchange pleasantries, Felicity stands silently, a frozen smile on her face. All her concentration placed on that hand on her skin and the ever so slight movement of Oliver’s thumb.  As he talks, his thumb has been lightly stroking her skin, soft small little circles.  She is mesmerized by the sensation of his finger, each circle arousing her more, her panties dampening in response.  She glances at him quickly, trying to discern if he’s doing it on purpose, but his face reveals no ulterior motive.

“Thanks to your support and, of course, to yours as well, Miss Smoak,” Mrs. Ferguson nods to Felicity, “your sponsorship, Palmer Tech’s sponsorship is very much appreciated.”  At the sound of her name, Felicity is brought suddenly back to the moment.

“It’s a great cause.”  She croaks out lamely.

“And I hope the citizens of Star City will make that mayoral office permanent next month.”  Mrs. Ferguson responds with a smile to Oliver.

“We’ll see.”  Oliver hedges.

“It’s nice to see you two together again…maybe mayor won’t be the only thing to be made permanent.”  Mrs. Ferguson gives them a meaningful look.

“Oh my god,”   Felicity exclaims, unable to keep out the slight panic in her voice.  Just as Oliver replies smoothly, “That’s sweet.” Mrs. Ferguson walks off and Felicity rounds on Oliver.

“What are you doing?”  She hisses at him.

Oliver looks at her with confusion, “What?”

“Don’t play innocent, like you don’t realize you’re stroking my back this whole time.”

Oliver is genuinely at a loss.  “Felicity, I’m sorry, it wasn’t on purpose.”  Then he looks at her, and realizes that her pupils are wide and dark, that her skin has a flush on it, and that her lips are parted slightly.  And the sight of her arousal arouses him.

“It wasn’t?”  She swallows hard, moistening her lips with her tongue.  The action rocks him and he splays his hand across her back pulling her closer.  He looks down at her, softly whispers, “Why?  Did you like it?”

She huffs out a breath slowly, “No…uh…I don’t know, a little.”  Deliberately this time, Oliver slowly draws his thumb across her back and the movement makes her arch forward slightly tipping her shoulders and head back.  She looks up at him, unable to prevent herself from looking at his lips.

“If we were alone, I’d show you how much I like that dress,” He continues in a low voice.

“You would.”  She whispers. Damn, why is she continuing on this dangerous road?

“Mmhmm,” He hums.  “I’d slide this fabric off you, touch every inch of your skin, kiss my way up to your center, and lick you…thoroughly.”  Felicity feels the flood of wetness, his words, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. Shakily, she exhales.

Smugly, he looks down at her.  He can feel his own arousal, urgent and insistent, but he makes no movement, enjoying the sight of his words’ effects.  “Would you like that?”  He whispers, hoping the answer is yes.  

She looks at him with heavy-lidded glazed eyes and breathes a soft, “yes.” A moment of silence, the world recedes away, when from far away, a voice breaks in, “Miss Smoak?”

They crash land back to Earth, a young man stands before them, politely waiting for Felicity.  She turns, trying to clear her head with a shake, and listens to him.  Oliver slips away, needing to have a moment to arrange some composure for himself and his obvious arousal.

When the young man finally leaves, Felicity turns to find Oliver gone.  She feels bereft and she wanders away from the crowds.  Suddenly, a hand reaches out and pulls her.  About to resist, Felicity stops, realizing its Oliver.  He sweeps her with him towards a room, shuts the door behind them.  They are in an elegantly appointed bathroom.  

He whirls her around to face him and pauses a moment, seeking her approval. She inclines her head slightly giving it and he doesn’t waste another moment.  He plunges both hands in her hair pulling her in for a long heated kiss; his tongue sliding rhythmically in and out of her mouth.

She sighs, relaxing into him, winding her arms around his neck, stroking his short spiky hair.  His hands wander down her back, pulling her closely and tightly against him, then sliding further down, he cups his hands on her bottom, lifting her and placing her down on the wide marble countertop of the sink.

Urgently, she pushes his jacket down and off his shoulders, as he slides up the fabric of her dress, his fingers sneaking underneath the fabric, gliding up her thighs.

She fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, pulling them open, moving her hands across the planes of his chest, as he furiously kisses her, pulling her panties down her legs, her strappy sandals, dropping them to the floor.

He grabs her legs, widening them and drops to his knees.  He starts to kiss her, sliding his tongue slowly up her folds using his hands to tip her backwards slightly for full access. Then, roughly he plunges his tongue inside her, creating that same rhythm he had used to kiss her earlier. She leans back against the mirrored wall, one hand bracing against the countertop, the other on his head, trying to stifle the volume of the involuntary moans.

She feels the heat inside of her bubbling faster, every nerve ending on fire, building brighter and hotter.

Oliver stops his ministrations, needing to kiss her, look into her eyes, wanting to, and needing to be inside her.

He straightens and gently picks her up setting her on her feet.  Her dress in disarray, her perfect hairstyle, now tousled. He turns her so she faces away from him, the soft roundness of her bottom, fitting tightly against his hardness. They look at their reflection in the mirror.  The sight of their disordered clothing arousing them both, his hand splayed across her waist tightly holding her against him.  Her dress is pulled up and gathered at her hips, just covering her.

Slowly, not taking his eyes off her, Oliver reaches his other hand, down between her legs, stroking her lightly with his thumb, plunging another finger inside her. Felicity closes her eyes, letting the feelings take her away, sagging against him, feeling the massive strength of his body, holding her up.  She places a palm flat on the countertop using it as leverage to push back against his body, his hands, to angle her body so as to give him even more access to her. While her other hand snakes up behind her wrapping around the back of his neck, so she can turn her head toward him, pull his mouth to hers.  She kisses him hungrily.  A corner of her mind registers that here they were again; doing what she had resolved not to, but damn it all to hell, how is a woman supposed to resist?

Oliver can feel how close to orgasm she is, her breathing has intensified, her moans lowering in register, her body is loose and so wet.  His own arousal has become unbearable.  They adjust and he frees himself from his pants, sliding inside her, her grunt of satisfaction almost causing him to completely lose control right then and there.  He steals a glance into the mirror, to look at her, this woman he can’t resist, lost in the wilderness of their lovemaking.

Oliver leans down, placing a soft kiss on Felicity’s shoulder.  Felicity turns her head to the side, her ear to her shoulder, exposing her neck to him.  Her spot, he smiles, and he sucks at the skin on her neck.  She sighs loudly, biting on her lower lip so hard, he’s afraid she’s going to draw blood.

He lifts his mouth to her lips, running his tongue along her lower lip, licking the spot she had just bitten now engorged with blood.  As he languidly kisses her, he moves his finger to the juncture of her thighs and with a light stroke, sends her shuddering into climax. Covering her deep groans with his mouth, in case someone is outside the door, he feels her clenching around him, and the vibrations send him into his own orgasm.

Finally, when the last ripple has faded, they slowly come to awareness. Oliver helps Felicity slide the gown back into place, while she silently buttons his shirt.  Suddenly shy, Felicity concentrates on her task not wanting to make eye contact.  She turns to check her hair, trying to tame it into something not resembling “sex hair.” As she does, Oliver snatches up her discarded panties and stuffs them into a jacket pocket.

When the silence seems like it cannot possibly stretch any longer, Felicity looks at Oliver.  He is smiling gently at her, “Hey.”  He sees it, that regretful look in her eye again, _that we shouldn’t have done that look,_ not this time, he thinks.

“You should leave first; I’ll hang back, just so no one notices us leaving together.”  He places his hands on her shoulders and says, “Felicity, I don’t want you to be under any illusions that what happened just now meant anything, okay?”

Startled, Felicity looks at him, he’s smirking at her, a twinkle in his eyes and relief rushes through her.  He’s joking. He’s teasing her.  She’s embarrassed, but it’s funny to hear him parrot her words back to her.  It makes her feel okay in a weird way.  He’s signaling to her that she’s not hurting him.  

“Oops.”  She says with a little laugh then she sobers, “so, you’re fine?”

“For now, I’ll let you know if that changes.”  He replies.  Opening the door, he peers out, the coast is clear.  Tucking a strand behind her ear, he says, “It’s clear.”

She gives him a quick glance.  Then with a bemused shake of her head, she walks past him and out the door.

* * *

She’s not really sure what to think or how to feel.  She feels like this is a dangerous game, a slippery slope they are on, but she also doesn’t want to stop.  She misses him, craves his touch.  She doesn’t want to hurt him and she doesn’t want to get hurt.

Her mind swirling, Felicity walks back amongst the crowd, not realizing until too late that she is crashing right into someone.

“Ahh!”  

Focusing, Felicity sees a tuxedo front now awash in red wine, belonging to the open face of a young man.  

“I’m so sorry!”  He’s surveying his shirt in dismay, the red of the wine quite effectively soaking into his shirtfront.  Felicity casts about for something, to help him wipe himself, not that anything could help the mess.

“Wow.  That’s just not going to come out is it?”  He says ineffectually swiping at his shirt.

“I’ll get some club soda.” Felicity says worriedly.

“Bring the whole bottle.”  He jokes. But off her grimace, he continues, “it’s fine, really.  I was just thinking I was ready to go, this just gives me a great reason.”

He’s being awfully kind, she thinks, “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

He regards her with a smile, “You’re Felicity Smoak, right?”

Surprised, she says, “Yes.  I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Adrian Chase, I’m the new district attorney.”  Felicity shakes her head, not recognizing the name or face.

“You don’t know me.  I just know you by reputation.”  Behind him, the bathroom door opens, and Oliver emerges.

“Uh…should I be worried?”  She says half joking.  But her focus is on the man behind the one in front of her.

Felicity realizes that Chase has asked her a question, “I’m sorry, what?” She asks, still a little distracted by Oliver.

“I just said how I’m new to Star City, so I don’t really know anyone.”  He smiles.

“Well you know me now.”  She looks pointedly at his shirt and then past Chase at Oliver who is now talking with someone.

“In that case, would you have coffee with me sometime?”  Felicity focuses back on Chase.  Is he asking her out?  He sees her hesitation and jokes, “you can test another beverage to spill on me, it can be our thing.”

Felicity smiles, thinking he’s sweet and earnest.  Oliver turns and looks at her, they momentarily make eye contact and he winks.

The look makes butterflies explode in her stomach.  She can still feel the residual effects of his mouth on hers, his fingers on her skin.  Her phone buzzes and simultaneously, she sees Oliver look at his phone.  He looks at it and then quickly at her, his face serious. She watches as he makes his excuses and quickly walks out of the room.

“Felicity,” Chase interjects still waiting for her answer.

“Umm, sure, okay,” she replies distractedly.  She pulls out a business card, hands it to Chase.  “Why don’t you call me?”  Her phone buzzes again and she pulls it out, its Oliver calling; time to go to work.  “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”  She lifts the phone apologetically.

Chase nods, “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll call you.”  Felicity nods quickly and walks away.


	11. We can't keep doing this (we keep meeting like this)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Part 3 of the fill in the smutty blanks. Takes place after the events of Season 4 but before the events of my Spec Script for 05x01-02.

Gunshots ring out.

Oliver advances on the man in front of him, and with a powerful combination of moves, wrests the gun from him and knocks him unconscious to the ground.  He turns quickly; the anger is replaced with fear, a sick feeling that tightens his throat as he runs to where Felicity stands backed against a wall.

“Are you okay, did you get hit?”  His black gloved hands skim her waist, her torso, searching for blood from a bullet wound.  She’s dazed and doesn’t seem to register his comments at first, then haltingly answers.

“I’m fine, I’m okay.”  She can feel the worry emanating from him; he’s still looking downward frantically. She places her hands over his, trying to pull his attention back to her face.  Reluctantly, he looks up at her, she repeats softly, searching his face, making sure he really hears her, “I’m fine.”  He exhales in relief.

His hands stop moving, but stay resting on her hips, the warmth of her body penetrating his leather gloves.  His massive bulk is trapping her against the wall and he seems in no hurry to move away.  Felicity feels that familiar thrill of attraction when he stands so close to her. 

He smells of sweat and leather, and the blue of his eyes seem more piercing when encased in the black makeup and leather mask.  His head and face are partially obscured by the hood, and as he stands there, she can hear the creak of the leather as he shifts his weight.  The sight of him in full Green Arrow regalia, a sight that has filled so many bad guys with shock and awe, always fills her with an animal arousal.  Since primitive times, she thinks, just throw me over your shoulder and take me back to your cave.  

Curtis’ voice cuts in, “Cave?  I thought we were calling it a Lair?  Although personally, I like Quiver…”  Felicity gasps, damn her brain and mouth.  

Oliver looks down at her, trying not to smile at her dismay.  He reaches over and turns off her com, switching his off next. 

Still not making an effort to move away, he happily stands there too close to her.  She cranes her neck past him to look at the unconscious man on the ground, who is still out.  Oliver is unconcerned with the state of the man behind him; he’s still focused on Felicity.

“I forgot how much you liked the Arrow suit,” Oliver teases.

Felicity smiles and shakes her head, embarrassed to be caught out, but not bothering to deny it.

Oliver leans in, whispering, “If I remember correctly, Heroes and Villains was your favorite game.”

Blushing furiously, Felicity says, “Ha-ha very funny.”

Oliver, still shamelessly flirting, tightens his grip on her waist, tugging her towards him, “I seem to remember quite a few nights in the Arrow lair, where you practically attacked me…”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Felicity counters playfully, biting her lip she gives him a charged look.

Oliver dips his head down and kisses her.  Humming into her mouth, “Mmmm, I wasn’t.”  His hands steal down to her bottom.  He squeezes, pulling her against him, against his arousal.

Felicity sighs, enjoying the feel of him.  Her hands resting lightly against the cold smooth leather on his torso, she tilts her head sideways, as he trails kisses from her mouth to her jaw and down to her neck.

He sucks the soft flesh of her earlobe into his mouth, before whispering in her ear, “I want you.”

And for a moment, everything fades away except for the feel of his gloved hands wandering over her body, the heat of his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding in her mouth as she presses against him cursing the clothes that form a barrier between them.

The faint wail of a police siren growing louder by the moment breaks the spell. They are both breathless, his eyes darkened with arousal and need, her mouth bruised and swollen from his kisses.

She gulps trying to compose herself, his eyes are still locked on hers; when she reaches down to switch her com back on.  Curtis’ voice breaks in panicked, “Guys, can you hear me!  Hello come in, anybody!”

Oliver and Felicity both feel that magnetic pull, wanting to bring them together again.  To keep kissing, to keep touching, until they are naked and he’s inside her but the police will be here any moment and they are in an alley and Curtis is listening in on the coms and a million other rational reasons.  And still Oliver briefly considers saying to hell with it, but instead he says in a low voice, “This conversation isn’t over.”  Oliver calmly switches his com back on and says to Curtis, “We had to switch off coms; we’re heading back to you now.”

“Don’t do that, I was freaking out, I thought the coms cut out.” the relief palpable in Curtis’ voice.

He grabs her hand and they run down the alley as the police squad car pulls up and two officers emerge to arrest the perp still laying on the ground.

Felicity leans against Oliver, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her thighs tucked snugly against his as the air roars around her, the motorcycle’s engine rumbling beneath her.  Her nerves are already tingling from his kisses, and the vibration of the machine she’s riding is, honestly, making her even more excited.  Even with the cold air whipping around them, the heat of his body coupled with the leather is keeping her pleasantly warm.

They fly through the streets, weaving expertly through the traffic, surrounded by cars and people, but Felicity just rests her head against his broad muscular back, closing her eyes, feeling safe and cocooned in that moment. His solid presence comforting her when she’s with him whether he’s wearing the leathers and mask or he’s in civilian clothes, she feels completely safe.

Others see only the mask, but she sees the man beneath.  The frustrating, complicated, and caring man, she still loves.

* * *

Adrian Chase and Felicity walk up the steps to her apartment.  She stops to face him, he’s pleasantly handsome, and they had a good time at dinner tonight.  She was surprised when he had called her the other night to ask her out. And she had said yes, even though a part of her felt guilty.  She and Oliver had broken up, it had been months, but somehow she still felt like she was cheating on him.  Falling into bed with him every time they were alone wasn’t helping either.  And she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth about her plans tonight.

She wasn’t ready to bring it up, cowardly, she knew.

Dinner had been awkward at first, but Chase was so winningly sweet and warm that after a while, she felt herself loosening up and enjoying their conversation.

They talked about work, about their lives before Star City, their families, but Felicity was careful to leave an Arrow shaped hole out of the conversation. Anyone she became involved with would never fully know her, she mused, and it made dating so much more complicated.

But still less complicated than dating a superhero, and I should know, I’ve dated a few, she thinks.

Now, she stood at her door, swiftly approaching that awkward end of the date moment.  

Adrian felt like the date went well.  He thinks she likes him, but he can’t shake the feeling that she is holding something back.  Some part of herself is being kept in reserve, but he doesn’t know what, he just knows that she doesn’t yet fully trust him.  But it’s okay, because hopefully he can win her trust over time. He’s surprised at how quickly and how much he likes her.  She’s so impressive, so smart, and funny.  And she is breathtakingly beautiful.  

“I had fun tonight.”  Felicity nervously fidgets with her keys.

Adrian smiles, “Yeah so did I.  The conversation and the company were excellent.”

He looks at the door, but doesn’t want to invite himself inside, he silently and hopefully waits.  She notes it, but she’s not ready for that, not even close.  Instead, she says, her words trailing off, “Well, good night…”

Adrian smiles, understandingly, “Good night Felicity,” A moment of silence, both of them trying to parse the others feelings.  Since she didn’t run inside, Adrian feels a measure of safety, when he leans down to kiss her.

She sees him moving toward her, for a moment, she wonders what it would be like to kiss him, but then panic sets in, and without thinking she pulls back slightly.  Adrian freezes, embarrassed he says, “Ohhh, I—I’m sorry, I completely misread that moment.”

Now Felicity is embarrassed, “No, you didn’t.  I mean—it’s not you.  It’s me.”

Adrian tries to cover his own humiliation, “No, it’s fine.  Really, you don’t have to explain.”

Felicity places a hand on Adrian’s arm, “It’s just, I just got out of a serious relationship.”

“With Oliver Queen,” Adrian cuts in.  Felicity is startled, how did he know?  She never mentioned it to him.  He sees her confusion and continues, “Everyone knows.”  Felicity’s mouth gapes open, _everyone knows_.  “I mean,” he says fumbling his words, “it’s not like everyone is talking about you…it’s just he’s Oliver Queen, his family is a big deal in Star City, and he’s the mayor, not to mention, that you are the former CEO of a Fortune 500 company.  Your break up was kind of big news.  I mean I heard about it all the way in Coast City.”  As he’s talking, he feels himself digging a deeper and deeper hole, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“Great, that’s not humiliating…at all.”  Felicity says dismayed.  She sort of suspected this was the case, but hearing it said so matter of fact is cold comfort.

Kicking himself, Adrian tries to rescue the turn in the conversation, “What were you going to say?”

Mentally refocusing, Felicity goes back to her point, “We’re still friends, but the break up has been…tough and I really don’t know if I’m ready to jump into something else so soon.  I just want to take things slow…”

He’s grateful for her honesty, even if a small part of him is a little disappointed.  But, nothing she’s saying is that great a surprise considering just a few months ago she was engaged to be married to someone else.  He takes her hand, distracted for a moment by how small and delicate it is, “I get it,” he says sincerely.  “Felicity, I had a really nice time tonight, and I’d like to see you again, but there is zero pressure on my side.  I’m good with whatever this turns out to be…”

The words are exactly what she needs to hear, and she feels all the tension drain out of her.  She smiles back at him, “Thanks.”

“Actually, speaking of 2nd dates, are you going to the mayor’s inaugural thing next month?”

Her smile falters, she had RSVP’d yes, but that was before, when Ruve Adams had been elected and her and Oliver still together.  But even though now he was the mayor-elect and they weren’t together, she still wanted to go as a show of support.

Nervously, Adrian continues, “I just hate showing up to those things alone and I figured if you were going to go anyways, you’d save me from my normal plan of awkwardly standing alone in a corner, holding my drink.”

Felicity smiles, thinking how he never seems awkward, how he’s so refreshingly honest and forthright all the time, “We should go together.  We can stand together…awkwardly.”  She jokes.  And leaning forward, gives him a hug.  They say their good nights and she turns and enters the apartment, closing it behind her, she leans against it for a moment.

What is she doing?  She’s broken up with Oliver, but they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. She’s dating Adrian, who she likes, but it’s not the same.  He’s kind and open-hearted and maybe with time she could see herself falling for him, but that need, that heat that threatens to overwhelm her with Oliver is not there.

Maybe chemistry is overrated.

There is a sharp rap at the door and Felicity opens her eyes.  Did Adrian forget something?  She opens the door, the question on her lips.  But standing there, holding a brown paper grocery bag is Oliver.  Her heart jumps at the sight of him, fucking chemistry.  

“Oliver!”  Nervously, she peers past him, wondering if he crossed paths with Adrian, but no one is in sight.  

Oliver curiously turns and peers behind him too, to see what she is looking at. Then quirks an eyebrow at her, saying playfully, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No! Why would I be—no,” she stutters. _Shit, I sound like a lunatic_.  His eyes narrow suspiciously.  If she doesn’t act fast, he’s going to have a follow up question.  “What are you doing here?”  She says quickly hoping the change in tack will stop his wheels from turning.

“Oh.” He looks down, for a moment tongue-tied.  Oliver mentally files through all the possible answers he can give. Arrow business.  I miss you.  I can’t stop thinking about you.  I just needed to see you.  I was in the neighborhood. I was nowhere near your neighborhood, but I went to the grocery store, and bought mint chip ice cream, and wine I can’t really afford any more in the hopes you’ll invite me inside so that I can spend a few minutes in your presence and hopefully in your bed and hopefully as long as we both shall live.  I don’t know no reason.  

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to silence the noise. Damn Queen, get a hold of yourself. Oliver shifts on his feet, fishing out lacy fabric from his jacket pocket that’s been scrunched up into a ball. “I came here to return these to you.”

Felicity eyes the material in his hand, it takes her a moment, but then she recognizes it.  Her cheeks flush bright red.  Quickly, she looks up at him, his face is inscrutable, but there is a slight sardonic amusement in his eyes.  “Are those…are those my _panties_?”  Oliver smiles in response, enjoying her mortification just a little.  “Why do you have them?” She asks suspiciously.

“Was I supposed to leave them on the bathroom floor at the hospital benefit?” He counteracts straight-faced.  He knows he probably shouldn’t tease her, but he can’t help it.  She gets so adorably mad, her cheeks turn pink, and her witty rejoinders make him smile. He’s trying a different way to reach her, he reminds himself.

Felicity snatches the panties out of his hand, “That was three weeks ago!  Why do you still have them?”

Oliver shrugs, “There wasn’t a good time to give them back to you.”

“Not once in the last three weeks?” retorts Felicity in disbelief.

“No.”  Oliver knows that’s a half-truth, but he’s also not going to tell her, he’s been stuffing them in his suit jacket pocket and tucking them into a hidden compartment in his Arrow suit for weeks.  In case there was an opportune moment to return them, he told himself.  Ignoring the little voice that was whispering, yeah right, that’s the reason.  It wasn’t to keep a reminder of her.

“So you’re solution was to randomly show up at my door and return them to me in person?”  She continues.

Oliver lifts the paper bag in his hand slightly, “I also brought ice cream and wine.  I didn’t know what kind of mood you would be in.”

He looks at her innocently; she is so peeved at him.  She stands and stares at him, her hands on her hips, like he’s an alien with seven heads.

He’s insufferable.  He’s making her remember things she doesn’t want to remember.  Like the thrill of that stolen moment, the danger of discovery adding to the excitement.  Like the warmth of his breath on her ear, as he held her to him, pinned against the bathroom counter, as they made love.

Felicity huffs out a shaky breath, trying valiantly to clear her mind and bring back rational thought.  This is exactly what she was talking about; the man makes her lose her head.  He’s the definition of unsafe.

“I don’t think you coming inside is a good idea,” she blurts out.  As soon as the words are out, she groans inwardly. Why did she say that?  He hadn’t even asked to come in.  Now, he’s going to think she wanted him to come inside because she’s asking him NOT to come inside and, good god, woman, get a hold of yourself!

As if he can hear her internal monologue, Oliver smiles at her roguishly. “That’s okay.  I don’t have to come inside…” he smirks, “given the last couple times, I understand if you’re afraid of what will happen if we’re alone again…”

She bristles.  He’s baiting her, she knows he is, but she can’t help it.  He thinks he’s so damn irresistible.  “I’m not afraid!”

He squints, challenging her, “Right.”

Damn him, she huffs out a breath in irritation, opening the door wider and moving to the side so he can walk past her, “Fine, come in if you want!  We can talk about your panty fetish,” she snarks.

He doesn’t dare smile, so as poker-faced as possible, he enters the apartment.

He looks around the room, the apartment looks lived in, not a box in sight. Not like him, he’s still living like a monk in the Arrow cave, satisfied to keep all the stuff he accumulated when they were together in storage.  Out of sight, out of mind.

“You’ve really settled in,” He says, trying and failing to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

She swallows uncomfortably not knowing what to say.  She unpacked to make it real, to make it harder not to give in and run back to him.

“I didn’t really see a point in putting it off,” she says quietly.

Even though they’ve been apart for months, seeing her place hits home that they are truly separated.  Absentmindedly, he picks up a wooden figurine, playing with it silently, trying to swallow the sadness he feels.  She breaks in, “I kept that.”

He looks more closely at the piece in his hand and remembers.  He had bought it for her in Bali, they had ventured into a small marketplace, walked up and down the makeshift aisles filled with vendors. Brightly colored sarongs had fluttered in the breeze, they had held hands and shopped, laughing at some silly joke he can’t even remember.  But he remembers the sound of her laugh, her eyes sparkling up at him.  He remembers making love to her that night, the windows of their little ocean bungalow open to let the cool breeze in, the tangle of white bed sheets, the moonlight illuminating her face as he hovered above her, thrusting inside her, while she moaned in pleasure.

Oliver tears his eyes away from the figurine, back to the present, and he and Felicity lock eyes.  He can see it in hers, she remembers too.  Then, impelled by a force greater than the both of them, Oliver pulls her toward him at the same time as she eagerly leaps into his arms.  

He crushes her to him, kissing her furiously.  She pulls at his shirt, helping him to pull it off, as soon as he’s free, he pulls her back not wanting to let go even for a second.  He reaches for her top, pulling it up and off her and then pushes her back against the apartment wall.

He pauses, wanting to slow things down, wanting to savor the feel of her, the taste of her.  Like Bali, like they had all the time in the world.  He kisses her softly, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, before moving to her neck, her shoulder, her clavicle, and the tops of her breasts.  He touches her between her legs, gratified to find she’s already wet.  He strokes her slit, cupping his hand so his palm rubs against her mound, his fingers skirting the fabric and sliding inside her already slick and wet, ready for him.

In response, Felicity’s eyes close, her breath ragged, that familiar excitement bubbling inside her.

Oliver kisses her on the mouth again, deftly unhooking her bra and in one sweeping motion, pulling it off of her.  He kneads a breast with one hand, lightly tugging the hardened nipple while he places his mouth on her other breast, kissing the nub, swirling his tongue around it, gently nipping with his teeth.

And then skimming her waist, he pushes her skirt down and off, sliding his fingers up the side of her thighs, and gliding over the lacy material of her underwear.  

He falls to his knees, kissing her on the upper part of her abdomen, placing kisses on her stomach, her hip, lovingly and reverentially finding spot after spot to touch with his mouth, light flicks of his tongue.  She strains against him, arching her back to push more fully into his mouth, jumping at each renewed contact from his lips.

Moving his hands from her hips towards her lower back, he hooks his fingers into the band sliding them down over the swell of her buttocks before pulling them off her.  His eyes never leaving her face.  She watches him impassively, her breath raspy, her eyes at half-mast.  She lets him undress her, her hands braced flat against the wall.

Oliver places a hand on her stomach, touching the soft creamy skin, his other hand reaching behind her to press up against the plump flesh of her bottom as he leans in to kiss her at the juncture of her thighs, interspersing his kisses with long strokes of his tongue.  She grips hold of his hands that are currently squeezing her bottom, moaning in pleasure lost to the world.  And the sound of her arousal makes him hotter, bolder.  He plunges his tongue inside her, eating her like a starving man, alternating the torture with swirls of his tongue on her clit.  He’s wholly focused on his task, only Felicity’s whimpers the confirmation of his handiwork, so engrossed is he on feasting on her.

He can feel the urgency of his own arousal.  He can’t hold off any longer.  He sweeps back up sliding his hand up towards her rib cage and skimming with his mouth from her torso, stopping to kiss her breast until he finally reaches her shoulder.

He places his hands on either side of her face and looks at her.  Felicity’s eyes flutter open, the pupils blown and unfocused, her face flushed and shiny and he smiles at her lovingly, before leaning in to softly kiss her lips.  For a moment, they regard each other.  “We keep meeting like this,” he teases.

“I know,” says Felicity simply.  And they should talk about it, she thinks.  Or stop.  But no, deep down, she doesn’t want to stop, because now in his arms, everything is right. She kisses him, tugging at his lip with her teeth.  “I want you. I don’t know what it means, I don’t care.  All I know is that I want you to touch me; I want you to kiss me.  I want you inside me.  I want you to make me cum the way you do.  I–.”

But, Oliver doesn’t let her finish.  He lifts her slamming her against the wall, pulling her legs around his waist and pushing forcefully inside her.  She can’t help the low growl from escaping her at the feel of his cock throbbing inside her, the syncopated beat of his heart.  Wildly, he thrusts into her, their hips rocking together as one, faster faster.  She clings to him, pulling him closer, deeper into her, muffling her ecstatic cries into his muscled shoulder.  

The rhythm of their lovemaking moving quicker, looser, rougher until she explodes and soars away, carried off by wave after wave of pleasure rippling out across her nerve endings, hearing his cry of pleasure as if from a long tunnel floating up to where she is outside her body.  He loosens his grip on her and she eases her legs wobbling from exertion gingerly to the floor.

Oliver ghosts a kiss across her forehead, and Felicity feeling the familiar tiredness of afterglow threatening to swallow her closes her eyes for a moment. As she does, Oliver leans down picking her up in his arms, and carries her to the bedroom.


End file.
